


One More Night By The Fire

by Prophetandprincess



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prophetandprincess/pseuds/Prophetandprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra Amell attempts to deal with the realization that she will die to end the Fifth Blight, while also keeping the secret from her lover, Zevran.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Night By The Fire

Cassandra sat down on the edge of her bed and tried to process everything that had happened in the past hour. First, Riordan told her and Alistair that a Grey Warden had to die to kill the Archdemon. At least one of them was going to be dead tomorrow if the Blight was to end. Riordan thought that Duncan had told them, explained the sacrifice they had to make, but he hadn’t. The fact that he didn’t have time to tell Cassandra was one thing, but Alistair had been a Warden for six-months and he had been just as surprised. Duncan was sure that this was a Blight, but he never thought to mention to Alistair what that meant to the Grey Wardens?  
  
Then again, Alistair was of royal blood and Duncan did not expect all the Wardens to die. There would have been someone else to take the blow. There should be someone else to take the blow. This never would have happened if Ostagar had been won. However, Loghain was dead, it did no good to curse him for his betrayal any longer. It wouldn’t help her.  
  
The revelation about the Archdemon would have been enough to make her head spin, but then Morrigan was in Cassandra’s room when she returned. She had known the whole time that a Warden had to die to slay the Archdemon. Morrigan said she didn’t say anything because they wouldn’t have believed her anyway.  
  
If Cassandra was a different person, she would have started ranting and raving. She would have thrown things and cursed, maybe even set something on fire. How could this woman, who she had traveled with for months, have kept this from her? Even if Cassandra wouldn’t have believed her, she could have tried to explain. If she cared about her at all, after everything that had been through, after Cassandra killed her mother, she should have tried.  
  
But strong displays of emotion wasn’t the type of person Cassandra was, so she stood there, silently, and listened to Morrigan explain the ritual she wanted to perform. After Morrigan was finished, seeming quite pleased with herself, Cassandra took a deep breath and denied the offer. Morrigan thought that in order to save them all, Cassandra would agree to a ritual that involved blood magic and convincing Alistair to sleep with Morrigan. That she would let Morrigan conceive a child with the spirit of an old god inside it. Cassandra put aside her own feelings about Morrigan’s view of magic and her hate of the Circle, but this was too much. Morrigan called her a friend, but yet she had the audacity to ask her to be part of this ritual. As if she didn’t know the first thing about her.  
  
Even if Cassandra could condone the blood magic, how could she ask Alistair, who she had just made King against his wishes and married a woman he didn’t love, to sleep with Morrigan. How would she even go about asking a former Templar in training to lose his virginity and father a child convinced of blood magic and the spirit of an old god with an apostate mage woman he despised?  
  
Still, she had been tempted, which made her even angrier. If the ritual didn’t involve Alistair, Cassandra knew that she would have done it. If the biology would have worked, Cassandra would have done it in a heartbeat. How could she even consider that? That she would twist her own principles for such selfish reasons. Isn’t that what all blood mages did?  
  
Cassandra knew why she would have done it, Zevran. She loved him, the first and only man she had ever truly loved. The only man that she had let her guard down around completely. He made her a different person, a better person, and the thought of losing him so soon after finding him, it felt as if her heart was tearing. Morrigan had known this, had played upon it, and she almost convinced her. Almost got her to agree to talk to Alistair. Morrigan was right, it was going to kill Zevran to lose Cassandra. She was killing them both by not agreeing to the ritual.  
  
Cassandra got up and started pacing in front of the fire, her fingers tugging on the sleeves of her robes. Her thoughts were usually so organized and composed. If she met a problem, she found a solution. But the thought of dying, of this being her last night alive, shattered her concentration, her thoughts escaping like fish in a stream.  
  
From the moment she joined the Wardens, Cassandra knew her chances of surviving until the end of the Blight were slim. The fact that she had survived Ostagar had only been because Flemeth had flown over the battlefield on a whim and decided that Cassandra and Alistair deserved to be saved. Though the idea that the Witch of the Wilds did anything on a whim was debatable. Now was hardly the time to deal with that riddle. Besides, Flemeth was dead, or at least not in Ferelden anymore.  
  
Even that night on the top of the tower, Cassandra hadn’t been scared to die. Through all the battles and danger, she had never been scared to die. All the times she had been thrown around, knocked unconscious, she always knew that she was going to wake up. That Alistair would be leaning over her, asking if she was alright. Zevran making a joke about the only way she was going to die was if it was in the throes of pleasure with him. Wynne there to heal her wounds and tut as Zevran’s remark.  
  
Now, it seemed as if death was the only possible outcome of the battle tomorrow. She was going to die.  
  
Cassandra decided she needed a bath. It would help soothe her, give her time to order her thoughts, and allow her one more luxury. A little lavender oil and a bottle of wine, she might get through the night without becoming a complete wreck. She walked over to the door and pulled it open to summon one of the servants.  
  
“You must have heard me yearning for you all the way through the door,” Zevran said with an easy smile, his arm raised to knock on the door.  
  
“I…what do you want?” Cassandra made her tone cold, ignoring the fluttering in her chest at the sight of him. It hurt her, physically, to be so cold to Zevran, to see the way that his face fell. Espeically when all she wanted to do was hug him, fell him warm and solid against her, have him tell her that everything would be alright.  
  
But it wasn’t going to be alright and after all the years of perfecting her mask in the Circle, it was almost comforting to slip it back on. Now, more than ever, she needed to be the Ice Queen.  
  
“I just came to see what this Grey Warden business that the rest of us were not privy to hear,” Zevran’s eyes were searching her face, attempting to figure out the sudden change in his lover’s demeanor. She had stopped to speak to him before going to talk to Riordan. He had made lewd suggestions about what they should do later that night and Cassandra had just smiled and shook her head. Their normal conversations.  
  
“There was a reason you weren’t invited to the meeting. You aren’t a Grey Warden. Anything else?” Cassandra kept the words short and clipped. Zevran’s mouth opened slightly as if she had hit him, and a bit of color drained from his face.  
  
“I…” Zevran was at a loss for words, maybe for the first time in his life. “Can I come in?”  
  
“I was going to take a bath,” Cassandra said, which brought a small smirk to Zevran’s lips, “alone.” Cassandra moved to close the door.  
  
“Mi amor, what is the matter? I didn’t do something, did I?” Zevran asked as he placed his hand on the door. His face was so open, confused, hurt.  
  
“No, Zevran, you didn’t do anything,” Cassandra sighed. She could give him that, she owed him that. He deserved so much more, but it was better this way. Better to think that she had played him, that she never loved him. Better to have him hate her, than the alternative.  
  
It wouldn’t matter after tomorrow anyway.  
  
Cassandra was going to say that, that she never loved him. That it had all been a simple distraction, that what she had told him before was a lie. Yet the words would not form. It was a lie that even she could not tell. With every beat of her heart she could feel the earring he had given her, which she had made into a pendant, against her skin. She wore it to keep him always close to her heart.  
  
She was so in love with him her body wouldn’t even form the words to lie about it.  
  
“Then tell me what’s wrong,” Zevran leaned in, crowding her. All she would have to do was lean a few more inches and his lips would be against hers. To let him make her forget her troubles for a while. To be happy.  
  
“Oh,” a little voice came from the end of the hall. Both turned to see a one of the servants stopped dead in her tracks, staring wide-eyed at the two of them. Apparently she was one of the few people in the castle who wasn’t aware of Zevran and Casandra’s relationship. Or maybe she was aware, but expected them to be more discrete about it.  
  
“I believe the Warden was about to request warm water for a bath, my dear,” Zevran said as he turned on his best smile. “Do you think you could fetch that for her?”  
  
“Right away, sir,” the servant said with a bow. “Is there anything that you need?”  
  
“Not that you can give me,” Zevran cast a glance back at Cassandra, “thank you.”  
  
They both watched as the young girl bowed low before disappearing around the corner. Then Zevran turned around and looked at Cassandra, his hand still keeping the door open. His smirk was still in place, but his eyes became serious.  
  
“Zevran…” Cassandra sighed, not sure how to proceed. How long could she be around him before her resolve broke?  
  
“You have to keep the door open now, serving girls coming in and out. Might as well let me in until they are finished,” and with that he slipped around her and into the room.  
  
Cassandra thought about using her magic to get him to leave, but that would be both childish and over-the-top. It would also make him ask more questions and maybe get someone else involved. The last thing she needed was Alistair or Wynne to come and ask her what was wrong. Alistair might be stupid enough to tell Zevran about the sacrifice that needed to be made, he was awful at keeping secrets. Wynne would lecture her about how she had told her that her relationship was going to suffer because of her duty, but Cassandra had brushed her off. Now Cassandra wished she hadn’t.  
  
“So, I’m asking myself, what could have happened in the past hour that would have you act so cold toward me,” Zevran said as he paced in front of the fireplace. “Did she take offense to my kind words to the serving girls earlier? Does she only want my smirks and sweet words directed at her?”  
  
“Do you really think me so petty?” Cassandra snapped as she turned to look at him. Zevran was in a casual outfit, a loose black shirt and black pants along with a pair of boots. It was a simple outfit, made for lounging around a fire or roaming around a castle, but it accentuated all his features. Features that Cassandra could look at for hours, days, or years.  
  
Time that she no longer had.  
  
Cassandra turned away from him and watched as the first wave of girls with buckets of warm water came through the door. They were all so young since most of the Redcliffe servants hadn’t survived the assault of the undead. These are the ones that survived or local girls that desperately needed the coin.  
  
“Did you want any scents for the water, my lady?” One of the older women asked after she dumped the water into the stone bath.  
  
“Lavender, if you don’t mind. A bottle of wine if there is one to be found as well,” Cassandra answered.  
  
“Orange and lemon scents too, and two glasses, my dear,” Zevran called by the fire. The servant looked at Zevran and then back at Cassandra. Cassandra gave her a small nod that it was alright and the servant bowed and left the room.  
  
“I know that you aren’t petty,” Zevran said, resuming their previous conversation, “so that can’t be it. Maybe, it is that Alistair finally declared his love for you and you realize that you made a mistake marrying him to Anora. You wish to be with him and now don’t know what to do.”  
  
“Zevran, don’t be more ridiculous than you can help and keep your voice down,” Cassandra said, worried that one of the servants would hear his declaration about Alistair loving her. The last thing she needed was for that rumor to start.  
  
“If you won’t talk to me, I will scream it about the castle,” Zevran turned as another round of servants walked in. “Dear girl, have you heard about the King and our Warden here?”  
  
“Enough!” Cassandra snapped as she crossed the room toward him. She stopped inches from him so that Zevran had to look up at her. Usually their height differences wasn’t a big deal, they spent quite a lot of time laying down, but now she was using every inch to her advantage. Her fear, her anger, everything, vibrated through her body to the point that her fingers were trembling. She could feel magic flaring just underneath the surface. She felt her mask cracking, felt her cheeks turning pink out of rage, but she attempted to keep it together.  
  
“Is something the matter, my lady? Should I get one of the guards?” The same older servant asked, her lips pursed as she looked at Zevran.  
  
“That is not necessary,” Cassandra said, her light gray eyes boring into Zevran’s light brown ones. He did not flinch from her gaze, one of the few people who didn’t, and met it back with equal intensity. He was also angry and scared.  
  
“Then your bath is ready and the wine is on the table. If you require anything else, I will have someone waiting at the end of the hall.” The servant bowed a little before heading out the door. She left the door ajar on her way out.  
  
“You can show yourself out as well,” Cassandra said as she walked away from Zevran and starting taking down her hair.  
  
“Darling, usually you are so calm and collected. I’ve never see you so angry,” Zevran said as he reached up and pulled her hair down the rest of the way. “It is worrying. Tell me what’s wrong to put my mind at rest at least.”  
  
“I can take care of my personal hygiene myself, thank you.” Cassandra moved away from his warm fingers. He had always loved her with her hair down. He had brushed it out for her many nights, before tangling his own fingers into it. Fingers that would then travel all over her body, making her feel wonderful, warm, loved. Fingers that made her come undone.  
  
Cassandra turned away from him and looked at the fire. It was burning bright, but she couldn’t feel any heat from it. It was as if her heart had turned to ice, just like everyone in the Circle said it was. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had to deal with the teasing of the apprentices, but a whole year hadn’t even passed. Now it wasn’t a choice to be so cold, it was necessary. She was all but dead already.  
  
“I guess I will see my way out,” Cassandra could hear the pain in Zevran’s voice. “Enjoy the rest of your night, mi amor.”  
  
He made no noise as he moved across the room, but then again he never did. Cassandra had always been so impressed at how gracefully and silently he moved. He was a shadow that waited to strike. Like a dancer with unseen partners moving through life. He was a ghost waiting for vengeance.  
  
A ghost, like she was going to be tomorrow. Cold and lifeless, without a purpose or a future. Just another casualty in the Fifth Blight, like so many before her. Maybe they’d sing songs about her, the mage who risked everything to kill the Archdemon, but it wouldn’t be her in the songs. It would be some brave, noble, hero who had always known that this was her purpose. It wouldn’t be a terrified nineteen year old girl who had no choice in the matter. A girl who wanted nothing more than to spend the few precious years she had left with the man that she loved. That didn’t want to die.  
  
That didn’t make for a good story.  
  
“Wait,” Cassandra called as she heard the door push open, still not turning. “Zevran, please, wait.” She just couldn’t think of spending the night, alone, with thoughts of how the world would continue after she was gone. About how little she mattered in the scheme of things.  
  
She held her breath as the door closed and locked. Cassandra had no idea whether he was inside or outside of the door. She was scared to turn around. Maybe it was better if he had left. Her moment of weakness would be just that and nothing more.  
  
“Cassandra, love, what’s the matter?” Zevran’s voice was soft. Cassandra turned and saw that he was leaning against the door. She did not look at his face, instead she focused on his forearms. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled and she watched as the muscles tensed and loosened. He was either nervous or aggravated, probably both.  
  
This habit was one that she had discovered during all those long walks across Ferelden. It was almost imperceptible unless you had watched him closely for a long period of time. All those hours by the fire while they told stories about who they were before. She wondered how she had lived with some of the people in the Circle since she was a child and couldn’t even remember their faces. Yet, she could describe every one of Zevran’s muscles, his tattoos, his scars. She knew his body almost as well as her own.  
  
“Everything,” Cassandra said softly as she looked down at her hands. “Everything is the matter.” Her voice sounded small and scared even to her own ears.  
  
“It can’t be all bad,” Zevran’ boot appeared in her line of vision. “You have a warm bath and wine ready. You also have a devilishly attractive elf ready to make you forget all your troubles, for a while at least.”  
  
“I don’t even think your remarkable skills could do that,” Cassandra attempted to smile, but she couldn’t. A tear slid down her cheek, but she did not move to wipe it away. This pain demanded to be felt. She was going to feel it.  
  
“Mi amor,” Zevran said as cupped her face and let his thumb brush away the tear. “I have never seen you cry before. I have never see you so angry before. If there is something I can do, please tell me. I can’t bear to see you like this.”  
  
Cassandra knew that she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what Riordan had said, like the Joining, the Warden’s sacrifice to stop the Blight was secret. How could she explain to Zevran why she felt so hopeless without breaking a vow she had made when she drank the darkspawn blood that was slowly killing her? Zevran had known that she would not live long, he had overheard Alistair talking to her about it in camp. He had even joked that the life expectancy of an assassin wasn’t that long either making them the perfect match. She wondered if he would have made the same joke knowing just how short her time would be.  
  
“Look at me,” Zevran’s voice coaxed, hardly more than a whisper.  
  
Cassandra’s eyes slowly trailed up, on his lips, which were perfect and soft, then his nose and finally his eyes. They were beautiful and golden, unlike anything else she had ever seen. They were warm and soft and worried.  
  
“Tomorrow,” Cassandra’s voice shook and another tear escaped her eyes, “tomorrow I’m going to…Zevran I’m so scared.”  
  
Then she broke down. She was crying so hard that her whole body shook and her legs gave out underneath her. Zevran caught her and held her as she sobbed against his shoulder. They both sank down onto the rug in front of the fire, Cassandra sobbing and Zevran murmuring to her and rubbing her back. He didn’t asked for an explanation, just held her and let her cry.  
  
Cassandra felt as if Zevran’s arms were the only things that were keeping her together. It was impossible for air to get into her lungs because of how hard she was crying. She couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think, all she could feel was pain, loss, and fear. She was going to lose him, she was going to lose everything.  
  
However, her body could only cry for so long. Slowly, the sobs subsided and her breathing became regular again, minus a hiccup here and there. Zevran didn’t stop stroking her hair or murmuring to her. It was only now that she could hear he was speaking in Antivian. She didn’t know what he was saying, but his voice was hoarse, as if he was moments from crying as well.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Cassandra leaned away and wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her robes. “I shouldn’t have broken down like that. It’s childish.”  
  
“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, my dear.” Zevran pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “You have the fate of the world on your shoulder, you have for months now, and the fact that this is the first time you have broken down is a miracle. That is nothing to be ashamed about.”  
  
“Thank you,” Cassandra sighed as she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on his shoulder. Her head was pounding from crying so hard and it hurt just to blink. Her stomach was also flipping, making her queasy.  
  
“You should probably get into the bath now, before it gets cold.” Zevran said as he moved backward to wipe more makeup off of her cheeks with his thumb. “It will help you relax. Come, let me help you undress.”  
  
Cassandra nodded and Zevran’s deft fingers started undoing the buckles and clasps on her robe. After all the nights they had been together, it didn’t take him long to get the clothing off of her. He placed a few light kisses, on her shoulder and the base of her throat, but that was all. This was intimate, not sexual. He helped her into the bath without even making an offer to join.  
  
“And I think we both need a drink,” Zevran got up and walked over to the table. They hadn’t left a corkscrew for the bottle so Zevran pulled out a dagger from his boot. Cassandra laughed a little, wondering if he was ever not carrying a weapon when he had clothes on.  
  
“It’s nice to hear that sound again. Have I ever told you that your laugh reminds me of cool summer night in Antiva. Rare and wonderfully refreshing.” Zevran sniffed the wine bottle, either to see if the wine was good or if it was poisoned. Then he took a small sip. When he didn’t have a violent reaction he poured out two glasses and handed one to Cassandra. She finished it in one gulp and handed out her glass again.  
  
“Maybe I should have started with the alcohol and this whole thing would have gone smoother,” Zevran laughed as he filled her glass again. “You did not really explain what was said at the meeting. Your fear is understandable, but I get the feeling that something specific made you break down in such a way.”  
  
Cassandra placed the glass on the edge of the bathtub and slid underneath the water. Zevran said something while she was under the water, but it was muffled. The water was almost too hot to be underneath, but she enjoyed the little tinge of pain. This was something that she could fix by emerging from the water. The same couldn’t be said for the pain in her chest.  
  
Cassandra stayed under the water until her lungs ached before she reemerged. Zevran handed her the wine glass as he sat down on the edge of the bathtub. His fingers pushed the strands of white hair away from her eyes and Cassandra took another large gulp.  
  
“Cassandra, you are starting to truly worry me,” Zevran said as he put his hand on her shoulder. “I have never seen you like this. We may be walking to our deaths tomorrow, but you knew that an hour ago. You’ve known that for months.”  
  
“Everything is different from an hour ago. Everything has changed. I want to tell you, I do, but I can’t.” Cassandra shook her head and slipped further underneath the water, only having her eyes visible.  
  
“So Alistair did confess his love. I didn’t think he had it in him, but being King may have given him a new bit of confidence,” Zevran laughed. Cassandra glared at him over the top of the water, the lavender, orange, and lemon almost suffocating her with her nose so close to the top of the water.  
  
“Alistair isn’t in love with me,” Cassandra said coming up from the water. Zevran matched it was a raised eyebrow and a hearty laugh.  
  
“Well, you can’t be this beautiful and bright as well. However, that obviously isn’t it. This means it had to be secret Grey Warden business.” Zevran sighed. “That organization has more secrets than the Crows. Say no more, I understand.”  
  
“I don’t think you do,” Cassandra said as she turned to look at him, decided in that instant that he deserved to know. “Zevran, I’m not going to survive tomorrow.”  
  
“Don’t say that,” Zevran said as he reached into the water and took her hand, “We have walked into the jaws of death before and have always survived to enjoy the night afterward. You have walked out of the impossible with nothing more than a scratch. You will do the same tomorrow.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Cassandra said as another tear leaked down her cheek, but she wiped this one away. “Zevran, I am going to die tomorrow. If the world is going to survive, if the Blight is going to end, I can’t live.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” Zevran’s brow furrowed as he read the seriousness on her face. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you need to die? That is not how an assassination works.”  
  
“It does when you are a Grey Warden and the target is an Archdemon. Any more than that,” Cassandra sighed and shook her head.  
  
“You can’t tell me because of secret Grey Warden business,” Zevran’s voice was thin, but he attempted a smile. No one understood death better than Zevran. It hurt more to see him in pain than the pain she was feeling. It hurt even more to see him trying to hide it to protect her. He knew how close she was to breaking down again, he wouldn’t be the cause of it.  
  
“You are not the only Grey Warden,” Zevran pointed out as he took the bottle from the table and took a swig, not taking the time to pour it in a glass. “Riordan and Alistair…not that I want Alistair to die either. He is a good man, a king, but if it is between the two of you. Well…Kings die every day. I am Antivan, I don’t cry over it.”  
  
“Riordan offered to take the blow, so that’s a small comfort,” Cassandra laughed bitterly. “But if it comes down to being between me and Alistair doing it, I am going to take the blow. I have fucked up his life enough, I’m not going to take it from him too.”  
  
“Well, then,” Zevran’s face brightened, “that settles it. You aren’t going to die.”  
  
“Zevran,” Cassandra sighed and rubbed her temples. “The idea that one man is going to get to the Archdemon in all that chaos.” She shook her head.  
  
“That is no more insane than thinking you can. I know you are a gifted mage, but it is going to be a battlefield. Riordan is a seasoned Grey Warden, he is better equipped for this battle than you. Anything can happen,” Zevran got up and started to pace. “Anything but you dying.”  
  
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Cassandra said as she got out of the water. “I didn’t want this burden to be placed on you.” Cassandra wrapped herself in a towel and downed the rest of the wine in her glass.  
  
“So, what? You were going to turn cold on me to protect me. Try to make me hate you so when you didn’t come back tomorrow I wouldn’t be so heartbroken about it?” Zevran let out a harsh laugh. “You really aren’t as smart as you are pretty.”  
  
“What else was I supposed to do?” Cassandra asked, her voice breaking again. “Not tell you anything, act like everything was fine, and have you blind-sided when I didn’t come back? Or was I supposed to tell you everything and break the oath I made when I drank the poisonous liquid that makes it so I can sense that there is a band of darkspawn not more than two miles away? Or should I be like you, hiding my feelings behind humor and sexual innuendoes, too much of a coward to let myself feel anything? Please, explain to me what I am supposed to do!”  
  
Cassandra was crying again, her breath ragged, and she stared at him. The alcohol had not only loosened her tongue, but mixed with the bath water made it feel as if she was standing in a fire. It took a few minutes for her brain to catch up to what she had said. When it did, she flinched and wished she was on fire.  
  
“Well,” Zevran said as he set the bottle of wine down on the fireplace mantle. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so keen on getting you drunk.”  
  
“Zevran, I didn’t mean-”  
  
“No, I think you did,” he cut her off as he stared down into the fire. “Even if that isn’t what you wanted to say, somewhere in your mind it has been sitting there, waiting for the moment for you to say it. You have thought I was a coward for a while.”  
  
“That’s ridiculous. You have walked into every battle without a moment’s hesitation,” Cassandra said as she started to pace, wringing her hair into another towel. She wished more than anything that she could take those words back, or that she never had told him to stay. Once again, she had pushed away the one thing that made her happy. Maybe it was better for her to die tomorrow instead of live a life where she constantly destroyed everything that mattered.  
  
“But that wasn’t what you were talking about, is it. You were talking about when I ran from the Crows because I killed a woman I loved. You were talking about using you to hide from what I did. Then, when I had feelings for you, I pushed you away as well. The fact that I have never told you that I loved you. That is how you thought I was a coward. That is it, no?” Zevran looked at her, his normal cockiness gone and she could finally see him without a mask. It was rare to see Zevran without his bravado, the only other time she remembered was when he discussed his final job with the crows.  
  
Didn’t she deserve to let him see her without her mask as well?  
  
“That is it, but it is no different than what I just did,” Cassandra walked over, reached past him to grab the wine bottle from the mantle, and took a long pull from it. “If I think you are a coward it is only because I think I’m a coward as well. I have never allowed myself to be happy because I am scared of what that would mean. Who am I, if not the Ice Queen?”  
  
Zevran reached out and took the bottle from her. He tipped it back, a little leaking it out of the corner of his mouth. Cassandra watched him, his neck elongated and a small stream of wine running down his chin, and her heart swelled. He was so lean and strong and confident. A man who could kill as easily as he smiled. He had known pain, sorrow, loneliness, but also found pleasure, joy, and happiness. He never failed to smile or to make her smile and laugh when she needed it the most. He calmed her frayed nerves the way that no one else ever had been able to. A man who was beautiful.  
  
She loved him, the first and only person she had ever loved. Should she have gone through the ritual for his sake? What would he do when she didn’t survive the fight tomorrow? The hole in her chest seemed to get bigger and Cassandra looked away.  
  
“Is it such a bad thing, that we are both cowards in love?” Zevran asked as he handed her the bottle back. “Doesn’t it mean we have room to grow together?”  
  
“It would, if there was time.” Cassandra said softly as she finished the bottle.  
  
“Cassandra,” Zevran said as he took the bottle from her and put it on the mantel. He reached out and took her hand in his. As always, Cassandra’s body called out for more contact, to have him closer. To have his hands run through her hair and his arms around her.  
  
“I have been a coward for much of my life, maybe we both have, but I swear to you,” Zevran said as he moved so that there was barely any space between them, “that I would storm the Gates of the Black City itself by your side. I will take on the Maker himself if he tries to take you from me. You are not dying tomorrow.”  
  
Cassandra opened her mouth, but there was nothing to say. She grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him, hard. Zevran wrapped his arms around her and met her intensity. It was angry and passionate and desperate. They were scared to lose one another. Scared that this would be their last night with one another. They were desperate to hold onto the love that they had found.  
  
“I love you, Cassandra Amell,” Zevran said when they broke away and he held her face in his hands. “I have for some time and I will for the rest of my life. You are not going to die tomorrow.”  
  
“I love you Zevran, to the point that it hurts, but that doesn’t change what tomorrow is going to bring.” Cassandra said, smiling slightly. He was so like him to act as if he could change fate. That he alone controlled who lived and who died. That he was the only bringer of death.  
  
“I will.” Zevran said looking her in the eye. “I am an assassin, I know about these things. You don’t have the mark of death on you and I am going to make sure it stays that way.”  
  
Cassandra didn’t tell Zevran that she was planning to keep him out of the battle as much as possible. That if she could she would leave him in camp. That even if he was heartbroken, she wanted him alive. That his freedom from the Crows and his life were going to be her last gifts to him.  
  
“Now, come to bed and I will tell you the story of the time that I killed three people while naked,” Zevran said as he put his arm around her and lead her to the bed. She curled around him and he told her stories about pirates and queens. He sung to her songs in Antivan, his voice filling up the dark night.  
  
Finally she drifted off to sleep, his voice in her ears and his warmth keeping her safe.


End file.
